True to his word, Baiyan had invited Kai to one of his yoga sessions, an activity that was rare and largely unpopular among human society.

At first, Kai wasn’t even sure if he could call it a sport. Most of the movements Baiyan demonstrated were slow, and didn’t seem to require much effort at all. But he knew better than to judge too soon.

He had read about yoga and its complexity, the strength it required, the balance and control that was needed. So instead of questioning it, he simply shut up and followed Baiyan’s instructions.

Baiyan stood in front of him, eyes closed, his entire posture relaxed. He wore only a loose-fitting jogger, nothing else.

Kai couldn’t help but notice how deceptive Baiyan’s build was. At first glance, he didn’t look particularly wide or strong, but now, seeing him like this, Kai realized the man had all the muscles in the right places. Not bulked up for show, but refined, built for strength and endurance.

Kai’s respect for Baiyan grew. This was a man who trained for function, not just aesthetics.

“Relax,” Baiyan instructed, his voice calm and measured. “Empty your mind, and try to follow my movements as closely as possible.”

Kai exhaled, doing his best to mimic Baiyan’s stance. At first, it was easy. The slow, controlled movements felt natural, almost effortless. But as he held each position, he began to feel the burn in his muscles. What had seemed simple quickly turned into an endurance challenge.

His arms trembled slightly as he tried to maintain the pose. He gritted his teeth, his body resisting, the strain building with each passing second.

Baiyan, meanwhile, remained perfectly still, as if the effort didn’t exist for him.

Kai cursed under his breath. His muscles ached, his balance wavered, and finally, he had to break form, falling out of position before Baiyan even moved on to the next pose.

He huffed, shaking his arms out. “Alright, I take it back. This is definitely harder than it looks.”

Baiyan chuckled without opening his eyes. “Told you.”

Kai tried again, this time focusing on emptying his mind rather than perfecting the pose itself. He took a slow breath, relaxed his muscles, and raised his leg, mirroring Baiyan’s stance.

The simulation room was quiet, neither of them making a sound. The stillness helped Kai let go of his thoughts, and soon, the usual noise in his head faded away.

Then, something strange happened.

At first, he thought he was imagining it—a subtle vibration, a rhythmic pulse that wasn’t coming from his ears but from inside his own mind. It wasn’t an external sound, but rather a sensation, as if something deep within him was resonating at a frequency just low enough to escape conscious notice.

Kai remained as still as possible, trying to isolate the feeling. It didn’t come from his movements. Yet the sensation persisted, an underlying hum, perfectly rhythmic, pulsing in tune.

His first instinct was to dismiss it, but the more he focused, the more certain he became. Was it the nanites? The thought made him chuckle internally—ridiculous, right? But what else could explain it?

He decided to test a theory. Instead of merely observing, he actively reached out with his mind. He treated it like the telepathic abilities he had read about in old fantasy novels, attempting to communicate back with his thoughts.

Nothing happened.

"Kai? Time to change poses," Baiyan's calm voice pulled him back to reality.

Kai blinked and saw Baiyan already transitioning into the next stance. His body felt heavier now, as if he had just woken from a deep sleep. Shaking off the distraction, he lowered his legs and re-centered himself.

"Sorry," Kai murmured, adjusting his posture.

"No need to apologize. I was actually surprised you held that pose for so long. Warrior Pose isn’t exactly a resting position,” Baiyan said, studying him with interest. “Impressive."

Kai nodded absentmindedly, still thinking about the strange experience.

"Now before we finish," Baiyan continued, "let’s try a pose literally called Easy Pose."

Kai followed Baiyan into the seated position, legs folded comfortably, hands resting on his knees. There was no challenge in this one—it wasn’t about endurance or balance, but pure relaxation.

It gave him the perfect opportunity to focus again.

Blocking out everything else, Kai tuned into the movement inside his head. The sensation returned instantly. Now that he knew what to listen for, he recognized the pattern.

"Relax yourself," Baiyan instructed, his voice calm. "Feel free to stay in this position as long as you’d like. It’s a great way to meditate and find inner peace."

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Kai barely registered Baiyan’s words anymore—his entire focus was on the rhythmic vibrations resonating inside his head. He knew it had to be the nanites, but what were they trying to tell him?

The moment his thoughts filled with questions, the sensation disappeared. He frowned internally, then deliberately cleared his mind again. Within seconds, the vibrations returned.

So that was how it works.

Every time he let his mind wander, he lost the connection. His own thoughts were acting as interference. If he wanted to understand whatever message the nanites were trying to convey, he had to maintain complete mental stillness.

Kai exhaled slowly, pushing away every stray thought, every impulse to analyze or question. The vibrations grew stronger. There was a pattern now—a pulse, followed by a brief silence, then another pulse. It repeated with perfect consistency, like a coded signal waiting to be deciphered.

The moment he tried to process it, the vibrations cut off again.

Frustrated but determined, he forced himself to stop thinking and simply listened. He emptied his mind, surrendering himself to the experience.

The vibrations returned, louder than before. This time, they were more than just a sensation, they felt almost like a hum, a sound that existed beyond the limits of his physical perception. It pulsed at regular intervals, filling the silence inside his mind.

Then, something shifted.

For a brief moment, Kai lost all awareness of his surroundings. The floor beneath him, the faint sounds of Baiyan’s breathing, even the feeling of his own body—all of it faded away.

He wasn’t in the Black Swan anymore.

It was like floating in the vacuum of space—weightless, untethered, absent of everything except for the hum inside his mind. The void wasn’t empty, though. It felt like something was there, just out of reach. A presence.

Then, a stray thought flickered through his mind and instantly, the connection severed.

Kai heard the sound of Baiyan standing up. "Alright, Kai, I'm going to get some food before the shift rotates… Okay, you can't hear me. That's good—it means you're really meditating."

Kai almost responded but didn’t realize he had only spoken in his head: Alright, Baiyan. I'll join you soon on the bridge. I just need to give it one more try.

He shifted slightly in his pose, adjusting until he found the most comfortable position. The simulation room was silent, the artificial gravity holding steady, the temperature perfect. There was nothing left for him to do but let go.

So he did, and once again, he blocked out all thoughts.

The humming returned, stronger this time. It was no longer a distant whisper but a presence. He had failed to hold onto it before, but it was easier now.

Kai didn’t know how to describe the sensation. It wasn’t pain, nor was it like any sound he had ever heard. It was more like… a thought. Something taking shape just at the edge of his awareness.

It continued, the clarity sharpening with each passing second. It felt as though something was reaching out, forming, solidifying into a pattern.

He was so close now.

He could feel the humming shifting—becoming something more than just sound, more than just a presence.

He had to know.

He needed to know.

No. He must know.

What were the nanites trying to tell him?

"Hi."

Kai's eyes shot open, his breath catching in his throat.

A wave of cold washed over him, sending chills down his spine. His pulse pounded, his fingers twitching slightly as he slowly rose from the floor. His eyes darted around the empty simulation room, searching for something—anything—that could explain what had just happened.

He had heard it, and it was not a hallucination.

The nanites had spoken.

It scared him.

For the first time in a long time, Kai felt something dangerously close to fear.

It was inside of him.

Hi.

It replayed in his mind, a whisper.

Kai took a slow breath, steadying himself, forcing his racing thoughts into submission.

He was never going to do this again.

He didn’t want to know what else they had to say.

With one last glance at the silent simulation room, Kai turned on his heel and left—and found out he was almost late for his shift and hurried towards the bridge.

He got through the door a minute before the shift rotation. Sliding into his seat, he strapped in and powered on his display, mentally preparing to apologize to Commander Grayson for cutting it so close.

The bridge was eerily quiet. Everyone was absorbed in their tasks, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of their screens.

Commander Grayson sat with his head down, his eyes scanning something on his own display. Kai decided to wait, letting the commander finish whatever he was working on before speaking.

He pulled up the logs, catching up on everything he had missed during his brief leave.

Something wasn’t right.

Another radar contact appeared on his screen. Kai’s fingers instinctively tapped the display, pulling up the ship’s information. Just as he suspected—nothing. No identification, no transponder signal, no known model. Just like all the other ships they encountered here, in fact it was the fifth one in the last twenty-four hours.

For a place called No Man’s Land, it sure had a lot of traffic.

Commander Grayson exhaled sharply and stood up, his expression hard. “That’s it. We need a new route. We’re clearly on a well-traveled path… for someone that we don't know anything about.”

“The fact that none of these ships have identification is giving me the creeps,” Ivan muttered, his voice low.

Kai stared at the blinking contact on the radar, tension coiling in his gut. “You think we found the smugglers’ hideout?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Ivan said. “Not with this many ghost ships popping up.”

A heavy silence settled over the bridge.

If they had stumbled upon a major smuggling route, there were only two possibilities—either the smugglers hadn’t noticed them yet, or they already did, and was setting them up.

“Jump away,” Commander Grayson ordered.

“Roger!” Ivan’s fingers were already moving. He must have sensed the urgency in the commander’s voice.

The hum of the jump drive intensified, the core charging steadily as the Black Swan prepared for another jump. The bridge remained silent, the only sound the rhythmic pulse of the ship’s systems. Kai’s display counted down, the percentage climbing.

They were down to half their fuel reserves. One more jump, and they’d need to find a star to refuel. Normally, they would wait for the secondary jump drive to cool before initiating another jump. But the way Commander Grayson stood—tense, eyes locked on the viewport had made it clear that waiting was no longer an option.

90%.

Then the ship lurched.

A split second of weightlessness hit as the power cut out. The hum of the jump drive died instantly, plunging the bridge into darkness. The Black Swan had gone completely silent.

The blackout lasted no more than a second. Emergency systems kicked in, displays flickered back to life, and red warning lights washed over the bridge.

The jump had been canceled, and it was not their own doing, that only meanted one thing—

Someone didn’t want them to leave.

The bridge exploded into motion. Alarms blared. Defensive protocols activated automatically. Teresa’s hands flew over the controls, trying to pinpoint the source of the failure.

Kai’s display flickered with a new reading.

Warning: Capital-Class Ship Detected.